


Cloud Nine

by sirbartonslady



Category: Dragon Quest IV
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-31
Updated: 2012-05-30
Packaged: 2017-11-06 09:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/417163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirbartonslady/pseuds/sirbartonslady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now that the world is safe from Psaro the Manslayer, Tsar Stepan wants his daughter to choose a husband and prepare to succeed him to the throne. It's up to Kiryl to convince Alena to do her royal duties and marry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Betrothal

**Author's Note:**

> A word about the language: I'm aware that the Zamoksva people speak with a quasi-Russian accent, but because I am unfamiliar with the actual details of it, I chose to omit it entirely. The accents were done for localization purposes anyway, and I figure that since it's just the Zamoksva people talking amongst themselves, their accents won't be noticeable to each other. But mostly I have chosen to ignore it because I'm not confident I could recreate it with my dialogue.
> 
> Disclaimer: It goes without saying, but I will state it nonetheless: I own nothing of this franchise, it belongs to Square Enix. I took some license with their backgrounds (such as Borya being related to Alena -- that of course is nowhere in the actual game, but I felt it explained things a little clearer)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by this piece of fan art: http://coddledeggs.ichiya-boshi.net/kuriari10-homeostasis.html

"Tsarevna," the young priest said patiently, trying to get the princess to pay attention to him. "Please listen to me."

"I do not want to listen to you," Tsarevna Alena of Zamoksva retorted with a yawn. "I'm bored, Kiryl, and I don't want to be cooped up here. There aren't as many monsters out there. You know as well as anyone that I faced Psaro the Manslayer and survived. I do not need to be coddled and cooped up."

 _You survived because_ **I** _was there to heal you,_ Kiryl thought angrily, then squelched the anger as the honest side of him admitted the other part of the truth. _Solo was there too, and he kept us all alive._ The light-haired, good-humored young man, son of the union of a human and a Zenithian, had been the wielder of the Zenithian equipment, as well as capable of many powerful spells, most noticeably a very powerful healing spell that could heal everyone and restore their energy entirely. "Yes, Tsarevna, but now that the world is at peace, you must concentrate on your duties."

"Bah, duties," Alena said bitterly. "You are like a broken disc, Kiryl. You bore me."

"Tsarevna, please do not be difficult," pleaded the elderly mage Borya, another companion of theirs. Borya was a relative of the feisty Tsarevna's late mother, who had dedicated himself to the princess shortly after her mother had died; when Alena had escaped her home in her zeal to prove her strength, Borya and Kiryl had both known of it inherently and had teamed up to follow her, offering their services to her. Kiryl was a skilled healer, and Borya was Alena's long-time teacher and a skilled mage. Alena had been smart enough to realize that her retainers wouldn't let her go alone, and that they could offer her some support. It wasn't until much later, when they had met up with Solo, that they had discovered that the three of them were considered to be "Chosen" companions for Solo, the Zenithian Legendary Hero.

"I do not want to be Tsarevna, you know. I have never wanted it." Her words yanked Kiryl back to the present, and the young priest gnashed his teeth in frustration at her stubbornness.

"That may be, but you are still the Tsarevna, regardless," Borya said serenely, sipping at his drink. "And I am quite certain that your father has reasons for having Kiryl speak to you."

Kiryl demurred, looking away, out the window at the lush green landscape. His chest heaved with pain at the task Tsar Stepan had heaped on him: he had to convince the strong-willed princess of Zamoksva to settle down and marry.

Considering Kiryl's own feelings for the vivacious princess, this was a very, very difficult task. He couldn't decide if the Tsar was being deliberately cruel, or if the exalted leader was merely as oblivious as his daughter. Everyone else in the palace apparently knew how the young priest pined silently for the beautiful redheaded fireball. Kiryl had long since resigned himself to this fact, and found it only mildly embarrassing nowadays.

Alena sighed and looked over at her childhood friend; "All right, Kiryl, what do you want?"

The young priest grunted in frustration; why did she only listen to Borya? Not that she always listened to anyone.

"My lady, your honored father wishes me to convince you to choose a husband and marry."

"I refuse," she said simply, looking away with an expression of boredom. "I do not want to marry anyone."

He sighed; "Would you please just listen to me? There is good reason for this, you know. You are the princess of Zamoskva, and the people do -- "

"Kiryl," she said sharply, "do you wish to be rid of me?"

_What?_

"Is this why you insist I must marry? Are you so tired of me that you wish to be rid of me?"

"No, Tsarevna, absolutely not!" He was genuinely horrified. Did she really think so poorly of him? "Why would you think that of me?"

"Then why are you making such a big deal of this? Why should things not stay as they have been?"

He sighed heavily; "My lady, I have no desires to see you wed to someone else, but this is not my decision. Your father wishes you to choose a husband, in the event of his early demise."

She stared at him, her eyes suddenly flashing with anger; "Do not say that ever again, Kiryl." Her hands fisted up in anger. "I will not listen to you talking about my father dying. Father is young and full of life."

"Your father is also prescient, Tsarevna," Borya said sagely. "He did foresee what happened to Zamoksva."

She seemed to swell in anger; "I forbid any more discussion like this!"

"It is your father's wish that you marry soon," Kiryl insisted, doing his best to remain neutral.

"Why would he have _you_ be the one to tell me this?" Alena retorted, turning blazing eyes to him. "Surely he does not fear me."

"He also knows that you would argue with him even more than you would with me!" Kiryl retorted, before demurring and looking away. "I do not cherish the idea of you marrying, Tsarevna. I wish things to stay as they have been, as well. But this is not about what I want, nor about what you want. It is about what is best for Zamoskva."

"Who do you recommend I marry, then, if I must marry someone? You know that I do not know many people, least of all marriageable men. And do not even think to suggest Ragnar McRyan. I will not even consider him. He might have been a big help to us, but there is no reason for me to marry someone twice my age!"

Kiryl turned red; "Ragnar is not that old, you know. But there is always, er, Solo." He hated himself for suggesting their friend, but he was desperate at the moment to steer her toward someone who wouldn't mind Kiryl staying nearby. Any prince or son of a lord would discourage Alena keeping a priest nearby -- suggesting that if she was so pious, she should keep a nun, not a priest.

"Solo?" She sounded shocked, and angry. "I do not wish to marry Solo. And I am quite certain he will not wish to marry me either. And do not even suggest that sloppy blond guy that Solo and the sisters found, that gave them the horse and wagon. Whatever his name was."

He sighed; "You are not making this any easier on me, Tsarevna. You will have to go out and meet sons of lords if you will not marry someone you already know."

"But I do not want to give _you_ up, Kiryl," she insisted. "And if I marry someone else, I may never get to see you again."

Kiryl blinked at her; "What? Why?"

"Because you are my friend, and if I marry someone, surely I can no longer be around you so much as I would be around whoever I chose as a husband. There is no one I trust more than you, you know. I would rather marry you than anyone else, if I must." She looked saddened. "But... I guess that is asking too much. You are a priest of the Goddess, after all..."

Breathlessly, Kiryl swallowed a bit painfully, unable to think, _afraid_ to think... was she saying what he thought she was saying?

Borya looked at each of them; "Kiryl is still technically only in training. And priests are allowed to marry, if they are willing to leave the vocation. A priest who travels the lands to preach the word of the goddess should not take a wife, but if he chooses to stay in one place, or even leave the vocation entirely, he can. The question is, does Kiryl want to do that?"

Kiryl barely remembered to breathe. Did he dare to hope...?

The mage nudged him with his staff; "Cat got your tongue, boy?" The old man's eyes glinted with gentle mischief.

Kiryl's mouth was dry with nervousness as he turned to the redhead before him. "Ts-Tsarevna... a-are you s-saying th-that you..." He couldn't quite give voice to his hope. If he was wrong, it would hurt more than anything.

"I do not know how I truly feel," she said honestly. "Your feelings I think I understand, but my own, I do not. However," she smiled gently, "I do know that I trust you, Kiryl. I care deeply about you, I trust you, and I know you better than anyone because I grew up with you. If I were to choose anyone... I think I would rather choose no one than choose someone who would make me forsake you."

His legs wouldn't hold him much longer. Reaching out to the princess he had devoted his entire life to, he took her hand, and sank to one knee, looking into her hazel eyes with more hope than he had dared to imagine in a while. "Tsarevna Alena..." His voice was hoarse. "W-would you consent... to b-become my wife... and make m-me the happiest man in all the world?"

What on earth was he doing?! He had just thrust his heart out into the open, and now he was asking her to not only agree to marry (which she had made clear she didn't want to do) but to agree to marry _him_ , of all people. If she refused him out of hand... he didn't know what he'd do.

Her smile didn't waver; "If not you, Kiryl, then no one. Were you not listening just now? If it means I might never see you again, then I will never marry. You are a dear, dear friend, one I cannot ever forsake." She clasped her other hand over his, her eyes softening slightly. "Whether or not I love you, I cannot say. But before I accept your proposal, you must understand something." Her expression became serious. "I care very much for you, but I cannot guarantee that I will ever love you as much as you do me. I will try, but I do not know if I have it in me to love so deeply. I do not know that I can be a very good wife to you." She shifted slightly, awkwardly. "I... am not so womanly, you know." She patted his hand, as if signaling him. "If you can accept this, then I will accept your proposal and gladly marry you."

He was utterly flabbergasted. She had said yes! _She said yes!_ The woman he loved had agreed to marry him!

"Shall I inform the Tsar that his daughter has chosen a prospective husband?" Borya said quietly.

"Just a moment," Alena said, turning her bright hazel eyes to Kiryl. "You have not answered me yet, Kiryl. Will you accept that I may not be a good wife to you?"

He blinked at her; "Stay just as you are, Tsarevna, and I could never ask for more. I do not expect you to become anything other than you are, my dear lady." Affection swelled up in his chest as he stood up and grasped both of her hands, pulling her close but making no motions to embrace her just yet. "It is _you_ , just as you are, that I love." He brought her hand to his mouth, and pressed his lips tenderly to the back of that beloved hand. Then he lowered his voice; "So now that I accepted your conditions, do you accept my proposal?"

She smiled and closed her eyes; "Yes, Kiryl. I accept. Borya, you may inform my father."

As the mage bustled off, Kiryl drew his beloved into an embrace; "May I kiss you now?"

"I suppose," she said with a tiny chuckle. "I shall have to put up with you wanting to do that, no?"

Had he not been so over the moon that she had just agreed to marry him, he might have been upset that she seemed to be burdened by his desire to kiss her. But at the moment, he couldn't contain his happiness. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to hers, and to his delight, she responded willingly. Perhaps he was over-thinking it, if he thought she was put out by his desire to kiss her?

"I love you, Tsarevna Alena," he whispered against her mouth, "more than anything in this world."

Time lost all meaning at that moment, and he surrendered himself to his delight, briefly allowing himself to fantasize about what might be on the horizon.

Then Borya's voice cut through his fantasy; "The Tsar would like to see you now, Tsarevna."

Alena disentangled herself from Kiryl's arms and stepped back. "Let us go and tell my father our news."

He felt a sudden stab of trepidation; somehow, he wasn't sure the Tsar would agree to his daughter marrying the very person he had set to convince her to choose a husband.

They followed Borya through the hall into the Tsar's private chambers, where Tsar Stepan sat at a desk, looking over some papers (most likely some proposed taxes or something important like that). He looked up as the trio arrived; "Ah, I am understanding that you have agreed to marry someone?"

"Yes, Father."

"Good job, Kiryl, I am impressed. You will go far in your vocation."

Kiryl shifted nervously. His misgivings were growing with each passing moment. "Yes sir."

"So, Alena, tell me, who have you decided on? Who shall I send for?"

"Send for, Father?" She blinked. "You do not need to send for anyone. I have chosen someone here."

"Ah! Even better! Who have you decided on?"

She paused a moment, looking up at Kiryl. She seemed to sense Kiryl's growing consternation. "Father, I wish to marry Kiryl. And he is in agreement."

The air suddenly became cold as the Tsar's gaze hardened. "Is that so? Kiryl, is this true?"

"Y-yes, Your Majesty."

"Kiryl," the Tsar's voice was razor-sharp, "when I asked you to convince my daughter to marry, I thought you understood that I wanted you to convince her to marry someone suitable for her. Not to convince her to marry _you_."

Kiryl flinched. "I am very sorry, Your Majesty..."

"Alena, I must insist you reconsider," Tsar Stepan said coldly. "He is hardly suitable for you."

"No," the Tsarevna returned. "It is either Kiryl, or it is nobody. I will not consider anyone else. If Kiryl is not suitable, then no one else is either."

The Tsar looked like he was ready to explode, when Borya quietly said; "Your Majesty, might I remind you that Kiryl was part of the back-up that helped Sir Solo to save the world from Psaro the Manslayer? And that he is well-known in that respect."

"He is a priest, Borya. My daughter is my only heir."

"I am not convinced that Kiryl is entirely cut out to be a priest," Borya replied calmly. "The head bishop has complained before of Kiryl not being overly attentive of his duties, and he did ditch his priestly duties to join me in following the Tsarevna on her journey. I am, or was, primarily the Tsarevna's tutor, but he was nothing more than a childhood friend -- he had no obligation to her. Yet he went along, and proved to be more useful to her than I myself was."

Stepan just glared at the mage, but Borya didn't flinch an iota; "So he is irresponsible as well. This does not make him suitable."

Borya cleared his throat; "Well, perhaps you could ask him why he has been so inattentive to the duties?" He looked over at Kiryl. "I'm quite certain he has a sound reason."

The Tsar turned his angry gaze to the priest, who wilted a bit. "Well? Explain yourself. Borya seems to be in favor of this union, but I do not favor you as a son-in-law. Convince me, if you wish to marry my daughter, or else I will expel you immediately."

Kiryl let go of Alena's arm (only just now realizing that he had gripped it as if it were a lifeline) and stepped forward, going to one knee before his liege; "Your Majesty, the reasons why I have been truant, and why I wish to be wed to your daughter, all result the same -- your daughter is more precious to me than anything in this world, even my own life. If she were not the Tsarevna, I would have approached her to be my wife much sooner. I know my place, Your Majesty, but I implore you... she is more important to me than anything."

There was complete silence in the room, and an uncomfortable sense of a storm breaking somewhere. Then Kiryl heard the Tsar flop back into his desk chair with a sigh. "Very well, Alena. If this is truly what you wish, if you will have no one else but him, then I will allow it. I do not particularly like it, but he seems sincere, and I can see you glaring at me back there. But I expect a grandchild out of you. Hopefully you can tolerate him enough to beget a child."

"All in good time, Your Majesty," Borya said calmly. "They are both young yet."

The Tsar sighed again; "I will arrange for a wedding, in three months' time."

Kiryl felt his knees weaken with relief. "Th-thank you, Your Majesty. I..."

"I am not pleased with this," the Tsar interrupted. "But I know when I am defeated. I just hope you understand what you are getting yourself in for." He made a shooing gesture; "You are dismissed."


	2. Marriage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiryl and Alena have said their vows and become husband and wife. Of course, there's more to it all than just that...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by this piece of fan art: http://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=211130

The autumn wind brushed through the boughs of the tree Kiryl leaned against, letting out a sigh of fatigue; "Why must your father be so over-the-top about this, Alena?"

His bride laughed; "Because I am his only child, you know that. And because, despite what he has said, he does approve of you as my spouse."

He snorted softly; "He has a strange way of showing it. But, he did invite our friends, and he did not make a scene at the ceremony. I suppose I should take that as a bonus."

"You are never satisfied, are you?" She grinned at him.

He stuck his tongue out at her; "I am exhausted from today. I have been at many weddings, helping the bishop presiding over the ceremonies... but it is very, very different when it is a royal wedding... and it is very different when it is my own wedding!"

Alena laughed and sidled up to him. "Kiryl," she murmured, her arms sliding around his torso and her head resting gently against him, "thank you for everything. I have never thanked you for your loyalty, I am sure. But I do appreciate it, and I want you to know that I do love you."

He chuckled softly, his arms encircling her tenderly. "I should be the one to thank you, my Alena," he murmured, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that this gorgeous young woman was now his wife. Pressing his cheek to her forehead, he sighed blissfully; "I will strive to be a good husband to you, my dear. I love you, Alena."

She looked up at him, and her expression was very tender, her smile genuine and affectionate. In her shimmering white gown, she was almost unbearably beautiful, like an angel. She had always been beautiful to him, but as a bride... as _his bride_... she defied description.

"I am confident that we will be happy together, whatever the court nobles might think." Reaching up, she cupped her hand around his ear and murmured so softly that he barely heard; "When you first suggested that I marry, I honestly thought that you were trying to figure out how to get rid of me, and I could not understand why you would. After all we had been through, I was distressed to think that you were tired of me."

"I was only doing as told by the Tsar," he replied, gathering her chin in his hand, tipping her head back and kissing her tenderly. "I did not want to see you marry anyone else. You saw the Tsar's reaction when he found out who you'd chosen. He thought I had used his orders to take advantage of you."

"Yes, I did see that, and you saw how I reacted. I told him that it was either you or no one, and I meant every word of it," she replied, tightening her embrace of him. "I know you, Kiryl, much better than Father does. We did grow up together, after all." She spoke with a smile, her eyes bright with happiness. "You're the most selfless person in the world, and I know in my heart that if you and Borya hadn't come along with me, I might have shared everyone's fate here at Zamoskva, and might never have been there to help Solo. Do not think for a moment that I was not aware of how much I owed you both. I realized this when we nearly lost you. When I thought you were going to die..." Her eyes misted and she shook her head. "I would rather not think about that. I felt so terribly helpless."

"We both owe Solo so much, do we not?"

A lazy breeze combed through her golden-red hair and ruffled his hair as well. The sounds of the celebration of their nuptials had since died off, and he realized that he should be taking her back to the palace... back to her room... No. _Their_ room. His heartbeat doubled as he considered what was coming up very soon, a very vital -- albeit private -- part of a marriage ceremony: the consummation. It was the only time when a husband and wife were required to share a bed. He would be lying badly if he tried to say he wasn't looking forward to it. He had secretly fantasized, many times, of a moment like that.

"Should we go back, my love?" He inquired. He knew she wasn't completely ignorant of what was expected of both of them tonight. "I do not want to rush you, but..."

She looked up at the waxing moon (it would be full tomorrow, most likely, he noted abstractly), and sighed; "It just feels so nice out here. But it is getting late, I agree. I guess we should be going back." Her eyes danced mischievously. "There is still something we need to do, is there not? To make this official, at least."

"There is, er, no need to rush," he said nervously.

"Who is rushing? The day is almost over, it will be quite dark soon. Now is as good a time as any to go back and consummate our marriage." Then she laughed merrily as he turned bright red. "Kiryl, you are not so ignorant that you did not know of it, nor can you expect me to be ignorant. We are wed now, and I know what is expected of me. I will do my best to make you happy. I may not be a very good wife to you, but I will try. And you can teach me."

"Teach you?"

"There are certain ways a wife should act around her husband, correct? I do not know these things, but you can help me learn them." She tugged gently on his arm. "I do want to be a good wife to you, Kiryl."

He blinked at her; "Er, well, considering you do not listen to me very much -- you argue with me even more than you do with Borya -- I do not know how well I will be able to teach you. Not to mention I am not exactly sure what it is you wish me to teach you."

"Well," she said frankly, "you surely know more about how I should act than I do. You can at least help me to not make a fool of both of us?"

"I will try," he said as he took her arm and tucked it into his own as they made their way back to the palace. "We may both need Borya's help, hmm?"

"Hmph," she grunted. "Well I suppose we have to put up with that old bag of wind, don't we? We do kind of owe him."

"You are so hard on him, Alena," he scolded very gently.

"I always have been," she responded happily. "I could be hard on you too, but right now I am feeling too good to be too rough with you. If you would like, I can punch you a few times."

"I would rather you did not!" He laughed. "It does not make for very fun foreplay if you beat me up!" After a moment, he blushed a bit at how easily he had suggested foreplay. Still... this was his wife.

"Hmm, maybe for you it would not be fun, but..." Her eyes danced. "At least not at first. I am certain that someday I can convince you to find it interesting foreplay!"

"Do you really find the thought of pummeling me black and blue so exciting?"

She snickered as she rested her head against his shoulder while they walked; "I love to tease you, Kiryl. You take me so seriously!"

Feeling frisky, and bolder than ever before, he halted, swinging her around to face him, and then he leaned down and nibbled at her neck, letting out a playful growl as he did so. "Mmm! I'll show you who is teasing who!"

"Ooh!" She responded. "Feisty, are we? Do not tempt me! I am feeling frisky too, you know!"

"That is probably good, I think."

As they approached the palace entrance, they saw Borya standing near the doorway, as if waiting for them.

"Borya?" Alena blinked at the elderly mage. "Why are you here?"

"Just making sure you two make it back safely."

Alena snorted; "Are you serious?"

"Considering how oblivious the two of you are right now? Yes."

Alena and Kiryl both looked behind them, to see nothing but the empty courtyard and the burgeoning forest at the edge of the courtyard. "But there is no one there!" Kiryl said, exasperated.

"You still had to look, did you not?" Borya grinned. "Besides, I wanted to tell you both that I am very happy for you. It makes my old heart glad to see you both so happy together." He looked slightly embarrassed. "Do not hate me for this, Kiryl, but it was I who suggested to the Tsar that he have you be the one to pressure Alena to marry. He asked _me_ first to do so, as I was her tutor, but I told him that it might be better to have a clergyman do the job. I was hoping for this result. I knew it was risky, but I was positive enough that things would work out."

The bombshell didn't go unnoticed. Alena looked back and forth from her old tutor to her new husband, a bit confused.

Kiryl wanted to be angry at the old man. He really did. Borya had played a dangerous game. But... he was feeling too good right now. The love of his life had become his treasured bride, and to some degree, Borya had had a hand in it. "I will be angry with you some other time, Borya. Now if you will excuse me, my wife and I are both tired and wish to withdraw to our chambers." He managed to say it with a straight face, though he saw Alena bring a hand up to her mouth to hide her grin and laugh.

"Very good, my young lord," the elderly mage said with a grin as he stepped aside. "You should carry your bride, I think. It is traditional."

"Good idea," Alena said, her voice filled with laughter as she paused and struck a pose. "I suppose it wouldn't do for me to carry you, would it, Kiryl?" She added quietly, grinning.

Kiryl grunted in good nature as he reached down and hooked his arm under her knees, scooping her up. She was heavier than he'd expected, so he staggered a bit ungracefully, but managed to keep his balance as he began the arduous task of ascending two full flights of stairs. Alena heckled him quietly, under her breath, the entire way, until he finally, laboriously, reached her... their suite. Then, once he had carried her across the threshold of the suite, he set her down and groaned; "My dearest... I hope I do not need to carry you like that again!"

"You picked me up using the wrong muscles, numbskull," she laughed gently as she closed the door and flipped the latch to lock it. There was still a draft from the hole in the wall that she had once punched out, but it was slowly being mended day by day. At least now Kiryl didn't have to fear someone peeping on them while they were, er, busy.

To his shock, she started to unlace and unbutton her dress immediately.

"A-Alena?" He stammered.

"What?" She cast a glance over her shoulder. "Look, Kiryl, I do not want to be wearing this when we consummate our marriage. And I think you should shed the clothing to. It will be easier if we are both wearing as little as possible. There is no reason why we should delay this any longer than necessary. I know you do not want to rush, but I hardly think that we are rushing."

She gave him a look that convinced him right then and there that she was not doing this out of obligation -- whatever she might have said before about not loving him as much as he did her, she seemed to have some smoldering passion flaming up now.

He crossed the room even as she let the gown slide from her body into a heap on the floor, gathering her into his arms and holding her close. "I will do my best to make this night memorable for the both of use, Alena," he murmured throatily. "As you are mine, so am I yours."

* * *

Kiryl stirred as the room slowly grew lighter. For a moment he felt a bit disconcerted; this room didn't feel familiar... and then he realized that he hadn't been dreaming. He could feel the proximity of his beloved even before he opened his eyes all the way. He could feel her presence, smell her distinctive scent, hear her breathing. His heartbeat increased as he rolled over to see her sleeping peacefully beside him, her russet curls a messy cascade of color on the pillows.

Last night had been no dream. Any lingering doubts he might have had about her intentions with him had been allayed quite handily. He would have been content (or at least would have made himself be content) with a single round of lovemaking, to fulfill their obligations as husband and wife, but Alena had had other ideas. Indeed, the fiery redhead had proven to have quite a sex drive on her! As it was, with the arrival of dawn, he felt only marginally recovered from a long night of... well, almost acrobatics. He'd never expected to get so tired from being in bed!

"Alena..." he murmured, unable to speak above a tiny whisper.

As if awaked by his words, she stirred and lazily opened her eyes. She looked up at him, and smiled as she stretched and yawned; "Good morning, Kiryl."

"G-good morning... Alena..." He could barely speak, and felt ridiculously stupid for being so tongue-tied. Would he never get over this nervousness around her? Why was he so lovestruck even now?

"Is something wrong?" She sat up, allowing the sheets to fall away from her bare chest, and he did his best to not blush even as he averted his eyes. Why was he suddenly so shy, seeing her like this?

"I am... just a little... this is a lot to get my head around," he said softly, forcing himself to sidle close to her and put an arm around her. "I have... wanted something like this for a very long time."

"You are cute when you are flustered, Kiryl," she said with a smile. Then, leaning close to him, she murmured in his ear, "I am more and more certain that I made the right choice. Not that I was necessarily in doubt, but I am more and more convinced that this was the right choice, choosing to marry you rather than remain unmarried." Then she nibbled suggestively at his ear, and he shuddered at the spike of lust that surged up his spine.

"Keep doing that," he found himself saying, "and we may have a daylight replay of last night."

"I am not opposed," she grinned licentiously. "We are wed now; we have every right to be this way with each other. And Father does want a grandchild, and there is one sure way to beget that, you know." She was being downright seductive.

If, as he suspected, her goal was to relax him, it was working. His nerves had melted away in the heat of his ardor. "Alena..." His voice was husky with desire. "You are driving me mad."

Smiling licentiously at him, she pulled away and reclined on the bed, never breaking eye contact with him even as she did so. "Then perhaps you should act on those mad desires, Kiryl? I am not opposed at all." Her voice lowered to be almost inaudible, but her words came through nonetheless; "I am yours for the taking, you know."

He rolled on top of her, pinning her to the bed (even though he knew she was physically stronger than him and could very easily throw him off if she wanted to) and kissed her aggressively. "Then I shall do exactly that. You asked for it!"


	3. Parenthood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shortly after Alena and Kiryl's first anniversary of wedded bliss, Alena gives birth to their first child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by this piece of fanart: http://coddledeggs.ichiya-boshi.net/kuriari17-omedetou.html

Kiryl couldn't stop pacing. Sweat glistened consistently on his forehead as his feet carried him back and forth in front of the infirmary. His father-in-law sat in a chair nearby, calmly reading.

Borya had long since ceased to try and calm the nervous former priest with words. Instead, he came back with a tray of tea and tried to encourage the young lord to drink. Kiryl refused, though, afraid that his nerves wouldn't allow him to keep any fluids or solids down if he tried to consume them.

Then there was the distinctive squalling sound of a newborn baby on the other side of the infirmary door, and Kiryl froze in his stride, turning to the door expectantly. His heart hammered in anxiety. _Please be okay, Alena!_

He couldn't help his fear and anxiety, even though he knew that his beloved wife was in the best of hands possible. His own mother had died in childbed, trying to give birth to what ended up being a stillborn brother for him. He had been so young at the time, he barely remembered her face now, but the devastating hole in his life after her death was still quietly raw, and the fear had stuck with him, in the back of his mind all this time. The sheer thought of losing his own wife to what had claimed his mother... He shook his head; he couldn't think about that. Alena was the strongest woman in the world; surely something so natural as giving birth wouldn't harm her!

Time seemed to freeze, and it took forever for the door to finally open and the midwife to step through, her apron stained with blood but her face bright and positive. "My lord, I am pleased to tell you that you have a beautiful and healthy son. We will let you in to see your new son and your wife in just a few minutes, but the Tsarevna insisted that I come out here and inform you that she is well and recovering."

His knees felt weak with relief. "She is going to be okay?"

"She is just fine, my lord," the midwife said with a knowing smile. "She is a very strong woman, you know. She is just very tired right now, and wishes to be presentable before we let you in. It will not be long." She disappeared back into the infirmary, door shut tight.

Kiryl felt a hand on his shoulder; "There now, my boy, I told you there was nothing to worry about," Tsar Stepan said with a smile. "You ought to know better than I do just how strong she is."

"Yes, sir, I do know. She is the strongest woman in all the world. But..." Shuffling his feet, he looked away. "I... just..."

"I know, lad," Stepan said kindly. "I know about your parents. And I know how it feels to lose a beloved wife suddenly. I understand completely. Pull yourself together, though. The last thing she needs, after going through what she has just gone through, is to see you falling apart."

"Come over here and have a seat, compose yourself, Kiryl," Borya advised. "Tsar Stepan is right, Alena doesn't need you fretting yourself sick. She's fine, she's safe, everything's fine, so just calm yourself down now. They'll have the room cleaned up in no time and you can visit her and tell her how wonderful she is. For now, try to compose yourself. Come on, there's a good lad."

Kiryl sank into the chair and sighed; he was shaking now as the tension that had been holding him rigid with anxiety began to wick away.

Time still seemed terribly sluggish; it felt like hours had passed since the midwife had gone back into the infirmary. He was starting to feel almost sleepy, he was so fatigued -- even though he knew how nervous he was, he hadn't realized just _how_ keyed up he'd really been, how much of a strain it had put on his own body.

Then the door opened again, and the midwife came out, this time in a clean apron. Her smile was radiant and her eyes twinkled. "Your wife would like to see you now, my lord."

That was all the prompting Kiryl needed. He was on his feet in an instant, and barged gracelessly past the midwife into the room. It didn't even occur to him that maybe he was being rude. The first thing that hit him was that the room still smelled of blood. However, it was clean in here, and Alena was couched on the bed, propped up with cushions, wrapped in a pretty maternity gown, with a swaddled bundle in her arms. She looked exhausted, but her eyes lit up when he came into the room.

"Kiryl!" She said joyously. "Come see!"

He almost stumbled in his haste to come to her side. There, in her arms, was a tiny, wrinkly little baby with angry-red skin, sleeping quietly. He was taken aback for a moment. He'd never seen one so small and... well, not quite ugly, but...

Then again, he had never seen one so new, either. Babies usually were at least a month old before they were anointed in the faith of the Goddess. He had done anointing enough that he had become familiar with young babies, but none this young. He couldn't call this one ugly, though, because he wasn't... he was funny-looking, and yet... still cute in his own tiny way.

His heart ached with an unexpected swell of love. This was his son. His own child. He looked at his wife, his eyes filled with awe. "Alena..."

"Isn't he precious, Kiryl?" Alena's eyes were bright with happiness. "And strong and healthy too! I did well, did I not? It was hard, I will not even try to say it was not, but I am so happy to have him now."

"You are amazing, my beloved," he said, his voice slightly choked with emotion. "I am... I am in awe of you." He brought a hand to her cheek. "And now I do not ever want to hear you lament that you are not a good wife to me. You are more than a 'good wife' to me, Alena. You are amazing."

"Thank you," she murmured, awkwardly nuzzling his hand. "I love you, Kiryl. I know that I do not say it very much, but I do mean it." For just the briefest of moments, her eyes misted, and then they cleared up and danced mischievously. "Now say hello to your new son."

The former priest turned his attention to the drowsy baby cradled in her arms. One tiny hand reached up lazily, fingers splayed, as if trying to rub the tiny face.

"We will need to name him," Alena added.

"Did you have anything in mind?" He looked at her as he hesitantly brushed the newborn's tiny cheek with a knuckle, nervous of startling or upsetting the baby. During the past eight or so months since finding out that Alena was pregnant, he had thought of a whole array of potential names, but just now, at that moment, nothing would come to mind. He had been so keyed up and tense, any and all preparations for this moment had gone out the window.

She was silent a moment, biting her lip in thought. "I was thinking... I think of three names, and cannot decide between them. First is Vanya. Or there is Valery. Or Pavel. What do you think?"

Inwardly, he was relieved. He had been afraid that she would want to name the baby after one of their companions, or worse, after Solo himself. But instead, she had chosen a trio of traditional Zamoksvan names.

Rolling the three proffered names around in his mind, he looked down at the tiny infant. "I think... Vanya. Yes. Vanya is a good strong name for him."

"So you approve?" She sounded delighted, which baffled him and he looked up at her again. "I was afraid you might want to name him for one of our friends."

 _What?_ He blinked a bit stupidly. "But..."

She looked sheepish. "I suppose that is silly of me, but I do not wish my son to have to bear the same burden as our friends have."

He chuckled, a bit tiredly, as the strain of this whole day caught up to him. "I... feared the same thing for you."

It was her turn to blink stupidly; "Really?"

"Well, at least Solo... you seemed so taken with him at one time. And you are adamant that we owe him much."

"Taken?" She scoffed gently. "Your old jealousy is showing, Kiryl. We owe Solo much more than we could ever repay, but I have never thought of him in that manner."

He flushed a bit at her calling him on his old jealousy. "Can you honestly blame me for thinking so? I never expected you to... er... I did not think you even noticed me. I know I was foolish and blind," he added a bit peevishly as she laughed.

"You were not foolish, nor blind, my Kiryl," she said kindly, putting a hand on his cheek, simultaneously shifting their new son into his arms. "If anything, _I_ was the blind fool, to have not realized what I was doing to you. You have always been my best friend, Kiryl," she added, "so I guess I just assumed you understood my thinking... even though I didn't really understand myself. Here, you should hold him."

He looked down nervously as he gathered the precious tiny bundle into his arms. "He is... so very tiny."

She snickered a bit. "Is he? He did not seem so very tiny coming out!" Then she yawned. "I am completely exhausted. That was much harder than I thought it would be. Fighting Psaro the Manslayer was easier than this!"

"My lord, I think it is time for you to leave," the midwife said gently, reaching in to take the baby from his arms. "Her Highness needs some rest, and you look like you could do with some yourself. Don't you worry though, we'll take very good care of them both. Besides, I believe you have a visitor, my lord."

Kiryl surrendered the baby with just a moment's hesitation, looking over at Alena. She was definitely exhausted, and in need of some serious rest. Putting a hand on her shoulder, he leaned down and kissed her tenderly; "Rest well, my love. Our son is beautiful, and you have done a magnificent job. I love you."

"Thank you, Kiryl. I love you, too. Go say hello to our visitors, and get some rest yourself."

Chuckling at the fact that his wife was bossing him around even as she started to doze off, Kiryl allowed himself to be herded out of the room, and flinched as the door was shut firmly behind him.

"Do not worry, my boy," Tsar Stepan said with a smile. "That midwife delivered Alena. She knows what she is doing. She'll take good care of your son."

"Are you not happy that you are a grandfather now, Sire?" Borya inquired.

"Indeed I am," the Tsar said serenely. "But I know from being a father that the thing my daughter needs most right now is rest. Did you decide on a name yet?" The speed with which he changed topics belied his calm demeanor; he was indeed excited and eager to meet his grandson.

"Alena suggested to name him Vanya," Kiryl said, suppressing a yawn.

"Kiryl!" A voice called from down the hall. The three of them -- the Tsar, Kiryl and Borya -- turned in bewilderment as a scantily-clad flash of color flung itself into the fray, in a tangle of cloth, spangles and arms.

"Is there a baby yet?" enthused Maya Mahabala, a fiery sorceress and flashy dancer from Libeccio, as well as one of the seven companions that assisted Solo on his quest, along with Alena, Borya and Kiryl. She was oblivious to the presence of the Tsar, apparently. "We heard that Alena was about to pop so we came as fast as we could!"

"Uh, hello, Maya," Kiryl said awkwardly as he pried himself from the dancer's arms.

Tsar Stepan snorted and Borya groaned.

"Allow me to apologize for my sister, Your Majesty," Meena Mahabala, a fortune-teller from Libeccio and Maya's younger twin sister, said from nearby. "Maya gets excited when good things happen. We came as soon as we'd heard that Alena was in labor. We were coming by to visit anyway, but we hurried when there was a rumor that the Tsarevna was about to give birth."

"Meena! Maya! Would you ladies stop ditching me, please!" A voice called from further down the hallway as Solo stumbled into view. "You know I get lost easy!"

"Sorry, Solo, it's just that you know what kind of trouble Maya can get us into," Meena said. "She's over here tackling Kiryl and being rude to His Majesty, the Tsar."

"It is okay, this time," Tsar Stepan said patiently. "I understand your elation. I will visit my daughter, and then I have some work to do. Kiryl, make sure you get some rest. After all, I rely on you to keep my brat of a daughter in line." He said the word "brat" with as much affection as any one word could have, taking all sting out of it. With a gentle smile to his son-in-law, he motioned the midwife aside, despite her protests, and stepped into the infirmary.

"So," Solo said as he arrived where the others were, "how's Alena? I met with the girls while coming this way to drop in on you guys here at Zamoskva, and we heard that Alena was close to her due date."

Meena took over the narration; "When we got into town, we heard that she had gone into labor. I'm surprised you're not with her right now, Kiryl."

"I just visited them," the young lord said, feeling awkward.

"Them?" Solo picked up on the pronoun.

Kiryl rubbed the back of his neck; "It is a boy. We are probably going to name him Vanya, but we have not decided entirely. She is too tired to talk much. And, I must admit, I am very tired. I have not slept in... a while."

He felt a strong arm hook around his neck, and registered that it was Solo; "Congratulations, Kiryl, you old dog! A son, huh? Good on you! And Alena's no worse for the wear, surely."

"Thankfully, she is fine. I am very sorry, Solo, but I cannot greet you three properly. I am much too tired."

"I'll take care of things here," Borya said, muscling his way into the middle. "Solo, girls, I'll show you to some guest quarters, while Kiryl goes and gets some sleep. When he's had some rest and when Miss Alena is feeling better, we can all catch up on old times, and see the new baby."

Kiryl sighed in relief and turned back to the infirmary, wondering if he could slip in for a moment, to give Alena one last kiss before he went to rest for a while. But he abandoned the idea when he saw that even Tsar Stepan had already been evicted from the infirmary. He decided to scrawl a quick note on a piece of paper and ask the midwife to give it to Alena when she awoke.

He jotted down the note and then knocked on the infirmary door, and before the midwife could give him an earful, thrust the note into her hands, telling her to give the note to the Tsarevna as soon as she was awake, in the event that he was still asleep when she awoke.

As he sleepily headed off toward the suite he normally shared with his beloved wife, the midwife glanced at the note.

"Alena," it read, "I am proud of you and our son. I love you." It wasn't signed, but his handwriting was distinctive, and Alena would know it was from him. Smiling to herself, the midwife went to the sleeping Tsarevna's bed and placed the note on the table beside it, so that she would notice it right away upon waking. Then, patting the sleeping princess on the forehead, she murmured; "My lady, you have an adoring husband. You are a very lucky woman indeed."


End file.
